


Excerpts from the Fabricated World

by CrayolaColor



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Drabble Collection, Headcanon Exploration, More Murder, Murder, but shh it's a fanfic that doesn't matter, probably me forgetting small details from canon that contradict some of this stuff, probably some rewrites of old fics, some basically just canon stuff but with a lot of added dialogue, weird AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-09-24 15:15:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrayolaColor/pseuds/CrayolaColor
Summary: A collection of Ib drabbles I've written. Expect basically anything- Pre-canon, expansions on canon, post-canon, AUs, and everything in between. I hope you enjoy them, and if you read I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave a comment!!-Color





	1. His Beginning

Garry felt like he was dreaming. Because, there was no possible way what was happening could be real. When he'd come into the art gallery, there was quite a crowd- More people than he'd expected, honestly. He'd even had trouble getting up to some of the paintings and sculptures. But, now..? There was noone. In the brief moment he'd been distracted, looking at the large wall painting called 'Fabricated World' upstairs, everyone was just.. gone.  
  
He was the only one around.  
  
"Hello..?" He called out, looking around for _any_ sign of life. But there was nothing. He sighed, deciding to just head back downstairs and hope that the receptionist was still there, at least. As he headed down the stairs, he struggled to think of some reasonable explanation for why everyone could have vanished so suddenly. Had he been that zoned out that he hadn't heard the announcement that the gallery was closing?  
  
Maybe that was it. But surely someone would have come to let him know..?  
  
Of course, various less reasonable thoughts ran through his head as well. 'Alien abduction' briefly came to his mind, but he quickly reminded himself he didn't necessarily believe in aliens. And if it _did_ happen to be aliens, why was he the only one they didn't take? Maybe the aliens didn't like him. He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.  
  
... Why was he thinking so much into it?.  
  
"It's _not_ aliens." He told himself outloud, letting out a slightly hysterical laugh. "What in the world is wrong with me..?" He sighed faintly, looking around as he got to the bottom of the stairs. And then, if only to make matters worse, the lights went out. "Oh, no.."  
  
Trying to stay as calm and rational as he could, he headed towards the front desk. He hoped someone would still be _there_ , at least. But upon getting there, it turned out the receptionist was gone as well. That was it, there was _no_ reasonable explanation.  
  
He stepped away from the front desk, and headed towards the door, hoping it was unlocked. ~~But, what if _everyone_ was gone, not just in the art gallery? What would he do then..? ~~The door appeared to be unlocked, but when he tried to open it, it was stuck tight. His eyes widened. He tried once more to open it, but it wasn't budging. Giving up, he stepped back- What was he supposed to do?  
  
Extremely anxious now, he tried to think if he had seen any kind of emergency exit while he had been there. There had to be one, right? In case of a fire? Turning around, he wandered back through the lower floor of the gallery. But despite the fact that there absolutely _should_ have been another way out, he found nothing. Starting to panic a little bit, he decided to go back upstairs.  
  
He doubted there was anything up there, but it was the only thing he knew to do.  
  
He really regretted leaving his cellphone at home now.  
  
He went back upstairs, walking past the large wall painting he'd seen before. He paused, noticing there was paint dripping from underneath it. "Hm..?" He walked up to examine it, and as he did so, writing suddenly appeared beneath the painting.  
  
'Come down below..! I'll show you someplace secret.'  
  
"Come.. Come down below..?" He echoed, confused and slightly frightened. How had the text just randomly appeared there? And.. what did it _mean_? He supposed 'down below' could mean the lower floor, but he had just been there. He decided he'd finish looking around the top floor first, then go back downstairs and have another look around there. Though he couldn't imagine what could be down there he had missed.  
  
After wandering around for a little bit, he found nothing on the top floor. Sighing, he headed back towards the stairs. He sincerely hoped there _was_ , in fact, something down there he had missed. Because if not, he wasn't sure what to do.  
  
As he passed by the window at the other end of the room, he thought he saw a shadow of a person move across it. "Wh..?" He turned towards it- There was nothing there. He must have been seeing things. He was on the top floor, noone could have been out there. But he decided there was no harm in checking it out, so he walked over to the window anyway.  
  
When he got there, the shadow appeared again, knocking on the window loudly. "Oh!" He jumped back slightly, eyes wide. The shadow had disappeared quickly afterwards, but there was no doubt that there was something out there. _Come down below.. It.. it couldn't have been asking me to jump out the window, right?_ Despite the fact that there was no logic to that whatsoever, he supposed it was worth a try.  
  
He made an attempt at opening the window.. Only to find that just like the door downstairs, it stuck tight. "Hm." He sighed. That wasn't the answer either, then. He supposed he should be glad- Jumping from that high was likely to leave him with some broken bones at the very least. But if he wound up trapped in an art gallery forever he would likely dehydrate or starve to death.  
  
That was a very morbid thought, he realized. Surely he would find some way out before that happened? Or someone would find him. He took a deep breath, and headed away from the window and back downstairs once more. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, noticing blue footprints leading away from the staircase. They weren't his, he knew that much.  
  
"Maybe there _is_ still someone here, then?" But, then, how hadn't he seen them before? Ignoring that question for the time being, he followed the footprints. "Hellooo!? Is someone here!?" He called. The footprints lead him to the little area where the Abyss of the Deep painting was. It was a gorgeous painting, he noted. Gorgeous, but somewhat scary.  
  
The first time he'd looked at it, before all of this happened, he had admired it for how realistically painted it was. Now it was freaking him out just a little bit, and it somehow looked even more real than before. He could've sworn it was moving. He shivered slightly, and looked up from the painting- Only to suddenly notice there was a door underneath the 'A Well Meaning Hell' painting on the other wall.  
  
"What in the world..?" He was certain that wasn't there before. If it had been, he surely would have noticed it. Walking away from the Abyss of the Deep and over to the door, he prayed it was unlocked. And, to his absolute relief, it was. "Oh, finally!"  
  
Garry thought he had found a way out, but in truth.. He had found a way _in_ to a much scarier place than the art gallery-  
  
The Fabricated World.


	2. The Forgotten and the Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garry is 'alive.' Sort of. (But maybe he wishes he wasn't) // Ib isn't as alone as she thought.

Garry stumbled through the passageway, using the wall as support. The last thing he wanted to be doing at that particular moment was going on what was starting to look like a wild goose chase across the gallery. Really he had just wanted to stay where he was and rest for awhile in hopes that he'd recover at least a little bit from.. _whatever_ the dolls had done to revive him.  
  
That was still a weird thought. He had died, and then had somehow been brought back. Albeit with a lot of unfortunate side effects. He still felt just as awful as he did when Mary was tearing his rose apart.  
  
But, that wasn't what he needed to focus on. Apparently, Ib was still _there_ somewhere. Why hadn't she left? He really had no idea- The dolls certainly wouldn't tell him. They wouldn't tell him where she _was_ either. Either they didn't know, or they enjoyed seeing him running around the gallery trying to find her in the state he was in. He was almost certain the latter was the case.  
  
He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts when a sudden jab of pain shot through his body. Crying out, he fell onto the floor. He took a moment to recover, then slowly sat up against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to keep going, honestly. But.. He needed to find Ib. He had to know that she was okay and safe.  
  
~~~~He took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again- Only to find a doll hanging by a string right in front of his face. " _Oh_..!" He leapt up far too quickly, and fell right back against the wall again. He inhaled sharply as pain shot through his body once again. "Gah-" He blinked tears from his eyes, and very slowly stood back up. " _Please.._ Don't scare me like that." He said to the doll.  
  
The doll just hung there, grinning eerily at him.  
  
"... What do you _want_!?" He shouted at it. "If you're not going to tell me where Ib is, then I wish you would just leave me alone! I didn't ask for this!"  
  
The doll continued to ignore him.  
  
Brimming with emotion, he yanked the doll off the string. "Please, just tell me _where she is!_ I can't keep running around this place looking for her! I can barely walk, for heaven's sake!"  He dropped it, stifling a sob as he fell back against the wall behind him.  
  
The doll giggled. " **She's closer than you thiiiiink!** " It finally said, and then ran off.  
  
"W- Wait...!" Garry called after it. "What do you _mean_!?" But the doll had already disappeared. He sighed in frustration, burying his face in his hands. He was so close to just giving up entirely. He didn't want to, but he couldn't take much more. He felt like his entire body was screaming at him. And he didn't know if the dolls were even telling the truth.  
  
They might've just been messing with him. Or what if she _was_ still in the gallery, but she had been hurt? Or...  
  
_~~What if they've killed her, and are just taking some kind of sick pleasure out of watching me search for her?~~_  
  
. . .  
  
Ib was all alone. Her only companions were gone, and as much as she tried to remedy her mistake, she couldn't find a way to get out. Tears streamed down her face. She didn't know what she was thinking. She _knew_ he wasn't coming back. As much as she tried to deny it, Garry was _dead_. So, then, why had she followed what she now knew to only be a figure of her imagination?  
  
She didn't know what to do. She was trapped. So, she figured, her only option was to backtrack. But what good would that do her? ~~They'd come all this way, all for nothing. They'd made it so far, but now he was gone and she was trapped forever.~~ Wiping her eyes, she headed back away from the painting on the wall and back towards the stairs that lead to the lower floor.  
  
She wanted her parents. She wanted _Garry_.  
  
As brave as the girl had tried to be, she wasn't anymore. Not after everything that had happened. She couldn't be.  
  
Time passed. More time than she knew. She went back and forth through the gallery- Guertena's works seemed to ignore her, now. It was strange. Time and time again she wandered back to the start, then headed back through to the end again. To no avail. And she was starting to realize there was no point anymore. Heading back from what she had decided would be her final attempt at searching for another way out, she swore she heard a voice from somewhere ahead of her.  
  
Cautiously, she peered around the corner. Her eyes widened, as she spotted Garry, sitting against a wall with his face buried in his hands.  
  
Ib wasn't sure what to do. It had to be another hallucination, right..? Of course it wasn't real. Cautiously, she stepped out into the hallway, eyeing him. And after a moment, she softly called his name.  
  
"Garry..?"  
  
. . .  
  
He hadn't even seen her come in the room. He jumped as she called his name, looking up. His eyes widened. He was simultaneously relieved she was alright, and incredibly heartbroken that she was still trapped. "Ib..?" He whispered, blinking tears from his eyes. He noticed how wary she looked, and with another stab of grief, wondered what had happened to her in the time since they had last seen eachother.  
  
She took a small step back. "Are you real..?"  
  
He stared at her with a slightly shocked expression for a moment, but quickly realized she had a legitimate reason to ask that question. As far as she knew, he was dead. He nodded. "Yes, I am." He reassured her, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.  
  
She hesitated. "How do I know that for sure..?"  
  
If he hadn't already been emotionally distraught enough before, that certainly sealed it. He wasn't sure how to reply to that. "I don't know..?" He finally said, his voice audibly breaking. "You'll.. You'll just have to trust me, I suppose. But.. I know you have no reason to." He was desperately trying to keep from crying, but wasn't sure how much longer he could.  
  
Ib seemed to consider what he'd said for a minute. She looked down a bit, nervously shuffling her feet. "Sorry, Garry..."  
  
He blinked, not sure whether she was apologizing for doubting that he was real or everything else that had happened. "It's.. It's alright, Ib, don't worry. I'm not mad at you. I never was..." He told her. " _I'm_ sorry you ended up trapped here.. I wish I had been with you. Then maybe we _both_ would have found a way out of this mess." He sighed faintly.  
  
She looked back up at him, then walked over to him, kneeling down in front of him. Without a word, she hugged him.  
  
He gasped faintly, slightly surprised. Blinking tears from his eyes, he hugged her back. "Let's.. Let's stick together from now on, alright, Ib..?"  
  
"Okay..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> neither of these two are okay
> 
> context: post-forgotten portrait/forgotten portrait variation of ib all alone. fake garry =/= real garry. she figured out the first one was fake hence why she was so wary when she ran across the real garry. he doesn't know about any of that though.


	3. The Name of The Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Post-Forgotten Portrait angst! 
> 
> Garry struggles with the notion that he may be slowly losing himself the longer he's trapped in the Fabricated World.

" _Forgotten Portrait..._ "  
  
The young man had been sitting against the wall in the hall leading out of the toybox- The same place where he had died. He had since been revived, and though he was sitting there with his eyes closed and not responding to the voice, he was, in fact, awake.   
  
He just didn't want to deal with whatever what he was certain was one of the dolls wanted with him. Nor did he want to respond to the name that had been forced upon him without his permission. That wasn't his name. His name was _Garry._  
  
" _Forgotten Portrait..._ "  
  
He hoped if he kept ignoring it, it would eventually assume he _was_ asleep and leave him alone. He somewhat doubted it, but he could try. He didn't know what the doll wanted, but he really wasn't feeling well enough to handle whatever it was.  
  
" _Garrryyyy_."  
  
That caught his attention. Opening his eyes, he sat up quickly with a quiet gasp. That was the first time he'd heard something in the gallery call him by his real name since he'd become 'one of them.'   
  
It was in fact one of the dolls- Hanging by a string right in front of his face. He recognized the doll- It was the very same one that had insistently bothered him when he'd first come. He'd nearly kicked it into the wall like he'd done to a mannequin head earlier on, but had thought better of it.   
  
~~Now he kind of wished he'd done it.~~   
  
He blinked, then sighed, leaning back against the wall. "Alright.. You got my attention. What is it?" He asked, realizing that now that the doll knew he was awake, there was no way it was going to leave him alone.  
  
" _Come play with us!_ " The doll exclaimed with a giggle, dropping off of it's string and onto the floor in front of him. " _We're loneeeely!_ "  
  
"Lonely?" He echoed, confused. "But.. There's hundreds of you?" He'd seen that first hand during the unfortunate and frankly quite _traumatic_ experience in the doll room before he'd been turned into a painting. He couldn't see how the dolls could possibly be lonely.  
  
" _We want someone different to play with!!_" The doll explained, grinning up at him. " _Mary's gooone now, so now it's your turn!_ " It went on, jumping up and down excitedly.  
  
He frowned slightly, hugging his knees against his chest. "I _can't_." He told the doll, looking down. "It hurts too much for me to move. Last time I tried to leave this place I was in horrible pain for what felt like _weeks_." He winced at the memory, wishing he could forget it.  
  
" _Try, try again!_ " The doll giggled.  
  
He stared at it for a minute, then sighed. "You're really not giving me any other choice, are you?" He whispered. "Alright, I'll try." He really didn't want to. He wasn't sure he could manage the trek all the way back to the doll room in the state he was in.  
  
And besides that, just the notion of going in the doll room still bothered him, after what happened to him there. He vaguely hoped the dolls wouldn't do something like that again, since as far as they were concerned he was another one of Guertena's works now.  
  
But it still didn't make the notion of being among the dolls that had once tried to drive him to insanity any less disconcerting.   
  
But, still, knowing he didn't want to risk making the giant hoard of dolls angry, he very carefully pushed himself to his feet, using the wall behind him as support. A wave of pain rushed through him, and he nearly collapsed again, but caught himself.  
  
Just standing up had caused him a great deal of pain. He hated to think how much he would be in by the time he made it to the doll room.  
  
The doll, either unaware of or unbothered by the young man's reluctance to come, laughed again. " _Yaaay! We have someone to play with again!!_ " It jumped up and down, and then took off down the hall. " _Let's go see all our other friends!!_ "    
  
The doll clearly didn't have any notion of slowing down and waiting for him, and disappeared before he could even think about following it. He huffed, then slowly began to make his way down the hall.  
  
He did eventually make it to the doll room, and though he was aching, it wasn't nearly as bad as he expected it to be. He wondered if his body was finally starting to get used to moving around again, or whether _he_ was just getting used to the pain.  
  
For some reason, the thought that it could very well have been the latter disturbed him a great deal. As much suffering as it caused him, he didn't like the notion of becoming numb to his pain. It felt like he became _less human_ the more he got used to what had happened to him. And that was what scared him the most- The notion of no longer being human.  
  
He snapped out of his thoughts as he opened the door to the doll room, and saw that the dolls had clearly been waiting for him. They were all sitting there staring at the door with huge grins on their faces, including the one in the painting.   
  
He felt a brief rush of panic, but it went away as quickly as it came. He took a deep breath, and slowly walked into the room. He sat down in the middle of the floor, gazing up at the large doll in the frame.   
  
"Alright.. I'm here." He said quietly. "What did you want me for..?"  
  
" _Heeheehee!_ " The laugh came from behind him. Turning around, he saw the doll that had lead him there to begin with. " _I tooold you! We want you to play with us!_ "   
  
He blinked. "And.. what does playing with you entail, exactly?" He asked, slightly nervous. He really hoped it wasn't going to be anything malicous. He supposed it probably wasn't. Afterall, the reasons they'd been hostile towards him before no longer applied.  
  
He wasn't an 'intruder', he had agreed to play with them, and Mary was no longer pulling their strings. In fact, technically, he was supposed to be their 'ruler' now. But he didn't want that title, and made no attempts to act like he did.  
  
" _Let's play hide and seek!_ " The doll exclaimed. " _We hide, you seek!_ "   
  
He paused. "You know I can't handle that much walking arou-..." Before he could finish his sentence, the smaller of the dolls had all gotten up and ran out of the room, laughing the whole way.   
  
Again, he sighed. There had to be some ulterior motive for the dolls forcing him to do all of this, right? Then again, he supposed they might've just been messing with him for the sake of messing with him. The dolls did seem to like doing that.  
  
In fact, that was probably exactly what was happening.   
  
Frowning slightly, he began to wish he'd just stayed where he was in the hall leading out of the toybox. But he couldn't go back and change what he'd done now, so he supposed he just had to play along.  
  
 _I can't change anything that's happened to me._ He paused at the concerning thought, taking a shaky breath. He didn't want to just accept it that easily. He still wanted to find some way out that didn't include murdering someone.  
  
Pushing his disconcerting thoughts to the side, he headed out of the doll room and across the room outside of it. He ran his hand along the wall as he walked, as a precaution in case he suddenly stumbled and needed to use it as a support to keep him from falling.  
  
He paused, though, as he felt something strange. Blinking, he turned to look at the place where he'd had his hand. Looking closer, he saw that there was a small door there with a string attached to it. "Hm..?"  
  
He grabbed the string, and pulled on it, opening the door. Inside was what appeared to be a tunnel, and there the very same doll from earlier was sitting. " _Heeheehee, you found me!_ " The doll laughed, jumping out of the tunnel and onto the floor.  
  
" _Now you've gotta find the reeest!_ " It exclaimed as it ran off, back to the doll room where it had come from.   
  
Well, he supposed that explained how the dolls got around so quickly.   
  
He spent a great deal of time searching the room for the rest of the doll's tunnels. As he walked he found himself more and more surprised that he wasn't really in any pain. Tired, yes, but not in agony like he'd been the last time he'd done that much walking.  
  
As he had that thought, he managed to find the last tunnel. Opening it, the doll laughed, and ran back to the doll room like the rest of them had before it.   
  
His mind no longer preoccupied with finding the dolls, the young man had time to think more about his earlier realization that he might've been getting used to the pain he was in. On the heels of that thought came another, much more concerning one.  
  
He wasn't just getting used to _that_ , he was getting used to _everything_. He was getting used to the dolls. The panic he'd felt upon opening the door to the doll room was brief, and he'd almost find himself slightly _enjoying_ the little 'game.'  
  
He didn't like that. He _wasn't_ one of Guertena's works. He was a _human_. A human that had his life ripped away from him when he'd only just become an adult. A human that still desperately wanted to see the real world again, though he knew it was likely impossible.  
  
The thought of not being the same person anymore, the thought that eventually he would become one of them.. He could hardly stand to think about that. He blinked tears from his eyes, his hand over his mouth.  
  
" _Yaaay!_ " The doll from earlier, oblivious to the distress he was in, shouted from behind him. " _You found us, Forgotten Portrait!_ "   
  
He sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side, and turned around. "... I guess I did. Now can I go back to where I-..." Not really thinking about it, he'd started to reply to the doll, but then he realized something. He'd done something he'd never wanted to do.   
  
_He'd responded to his painting's name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you mean: garry has an identity crisis and probably has a mental breakdown after the end of this fic. please help him he doesn't deserve this dkldlkdldlk.


End file.
